


The Anniversary

by theway



Category: Original Work
Genre: Age Difference, Age Play, Anal Fingering, Armpit Kink, Body Modification, Brother Complex, Brother-Sister Relationships, Brother/Sister Incest, Cervical Penetration, Cock Worship, Cuckolding, Deepthroating, Erotica, Extremely Underage, F/M, Fantasy, Firsts, Foot Fetish, Foot Jobs, Height Differences, Horse cock, Incest, Infidelity, Inflation, Jealousy, Large Cock, Lolicon, Loss of Virginity, Love, Magic, Multiple Orgasms, Obsession, Older Man/Younger Woman, Oneshot, Oral Sex, Pedophilia, Princes & Princesses, Royalty, Sexual Content, Sibling Incest, Sister Complex, Size Difference, Size Kink, Stomach Bulge, Stomach Bulging, Stomach Deformation, Underage Sex, Vaginal Sex, Virginity, maebari, womb fucking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-25 02:22:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6176542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theway/pseuds/theway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been one year since the king got married: though a politically savvy move, it hasn't been very personally satisfying. His younger sister, who's been harbouring a secret obsessive love for him, decides to take matters into her own hands, uncovering a very "large" secret in the process… wink wink nudge nudge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Anniversary

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, shoutouts to Vaesark, Sparrow, and my friend Alice for inspiring me to "dream a little bigger." This fic's gimmicks would be a whole foot shorter had I not been pressed to explore the limits of absurdity.
> 
> This fic is rather long, but at least half of it is smut smut smut, so if you're worried about reading through 16000 words of buildup for a mere two paragraphs of action, rest assured I've got you covered. Refer to the tags for specifics.
> 
> I've been sitting on this for an ungodly number of months in an unfinished state. I've had many things to distract me: several scenes creeped me out so much that every word required tremendous effort, I watched Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters, and I'm seeing a therapist now. I wish I'd been more productive, but such is life. As always, thank you for your support, the constant stream of kudos, and for your comments.
> 
> This work will receive updates soonish. To receive notifications about new works and chapters, you can subscribe to [this RSS feed](https://vas.neocities.org/etc/ao3_works_feed.xml) or [my profile](/users/theway).

The weather was invited to the festivities for the wedding anniversary of the young king Marcus; so great was that day. He and his queen, Rebecca, had joined both their hands and domains in royal marriage, formalising the union of their nations after centuries of treaty-signing and collaboration.

The annexation could not have gone any smoother, though it hadn’t been perfect. Nevertheless, the sum of the two nations had been greater than their parts, and people from all across the country were celebrating for the prosperity they were given, and for the judgement of their king. Many a leader would have shied away from such radical reforms, but he displayed wisdom beyond his years.

“Long live the Stallion!” the crowd cheered, as their king paraded in the streets on horseback. Some even threw flowers at him. Banners featuring a galloping horse were visible in almost every balcony or waved triumphantly by people.

At least one of his arms was constantly in the air, saluting in some direction or another. He wasn’t incredibly fond of the borderline deifying adoration he was given, but he didn’t actively detest it either. He had about a million better things to do than trace the streets all morning, but the people needed their spectacle and they deserved to be spoiled once in a while.

They called him _the Stallion_ , after the royal family’s banner, a title he’d shared with all his predecessors for marginally mythological reasons. His father had resigned from the throne a couple of years ago, and was busy living the rest of his days off somewhere secretive, protected by the veiling powers of state spies. He didn’t know whether he’d see him again, but he knew he’d be well regardless.

Although today was the anniversary of his marriage, his wife wouldn’t be joining them, as she was having her own festivities in her country’s capital. She wasn’t the prettiest woman in the world, but there were other ways to ensure the good lineage of the offspring, so it didn’t matter much. Nevertheless, he could use some company for the night, but the union of the two nations was still young, and it had to be properly nurtured, even at the expense of marital closeness. She made up for her absence as best she could the night before her departure. 

Besides, everybody knew that tonight was more about finding a proper suitor for his sister, the little princess Emilia. She still had a few years before she reached a typically marriageable age, but she was growing up beautiful, which attracted more eyeballs than even one of her social status took for granted—perhaps a disturbing amount.

There wasn’t all that much Marcus wanted to achieve through this; world conquest wasn’t on the line. His main interest was his sister being paired up with someone decent for her own good, rather than political gain. He didn’t fancy crushing a little girl’s heart with the iron grip of courtroom politics. The reality of being royalty was far from romantic, but he’d achieved more than any king would hope to in a lifetime, having almost doubled his territory overnight. He should be able to at least spare his own sister. What was the point of all that power if he couldn’t?

Besides, if worst came to worst, he could send her off to live in idyllic peace with her taboo stable boy love affair or whatever under the same protective espionage that cloaked their father. It wasn’t as if he was starved for options. Admittedly, it would be better if the stables didn’t have to be involved.

By afternoon, his arms were decidedly sore. He dismounted his mare and handed the loins to his second-in-command.

“Anything else for today, Richard?” he asked his general.

“You still have a ball to attend to, my lord, but you won’t be suffering any longer in my hands, at least.”

Marcus chuckled, but that was about all the humour he could muster. He did not look forward to the vapid jibber jabber of guild masters or low-ranking aristocrats trying to climb the ladder by kissing his arse tonight. He’d have to actively resist not getting shitfaced, losing all inhibitions, and having them beheaded to the last. He’d do it right this moment if it wouldn’t inspire a revolution.

“Wipe that grin off your face,” Marcus said. “You’ll be attending, too. Perhaps you won’t have the farm lords to smooth talk to, but—”

“Oh, yes, absolutely, I will be attending,” Richard said. However, his smirk betrayed a plot twist. “It just so happens that some minor incident will require my personal attention after not too long. Alas, I will have to depart and miss the rest of the night. Woe is me.”

“You are conspiring with your troops!” Marcus exclaimed in mock outrage. “Scandalous!”

“Truly, I am the worst. One of these days my vile machinations will cost me my head, but at least I won’t have the merchants’ guild singing my last rites.” He shoved Marcus forward. “Off you go, now. Ask your alchemists if they have anything to take the edge off.”

“Maybe I will.”

After all, the only way to laugh at their jokes was to have a head full of opioids.

* * *

Instead of resting, Marcus spent the next few hours making final preparations for the ball, and dealing with the drama that spontaneously generated in fractal detail. Eventually, he had to trust those responsible not to fuck things up too horribly, raise his hands, and let the matter rest in the gentle embrace of fate.

His departure was interrupted by Anna, who was Emilia’s head maid and, for all intents and purposes, her caretaker, at least since since their parents left the imperial palace.

“Your highness,” she said and bowed deeply. “If you have some time…”

Honestly, all Marcus wanted was some peace and quiet, but it wasn’t Anna’s fault that he felt annoyed, and he shouldn’t take it out on her.

“Speak your mind.”

“My lord, given the nature of today’s event, I was wondering, if you have the time, whether you could pay her highness Emilia a visit to ensure her attire tonight is… proper.” Anna had significant difficulty dancing around the topic, her speech and mannerisms feeling awkward.

“Oh. I see. I, uh… Honestly, I’m curious why you thought of me.”

“It’s no secret her highness is more affectionate towards your highness, and… She’s rather strong-minded, so I want to be sure the formality of the event is properly understood. I feel she might be too dismissive of me.”

She had a point, as difficult as it was for her to get it across. The woman felt like she was walking on eggshells. However, she wasn’t wrong: Emilia could be very stubborn and rebellious.

“You’re right. I’ll see to it, then.”

“Thank you, your highness,” Anna said, bowing deeply again.

With that said, Marcus changed direction and headed towards his sister’s chambers instead. Knowing her, she was planning on spending the entire day in her room, wasting time, avoiding boring officials, killjoys, or intrusive suitors. If there was any person in the building who hated these things more than he did, it was probably her. It was a curious thing, since royal balls and the whole princess gimmick was supposed to be every young girl’s dream. He wondered whether this trait was inherited.

There wasn’t much going on around Emilia’s room, except for a couple of guards standing by. He walked past them, paying them little mind, and entered resolute in talking some sense into his sister. The last thing he wanted was for her to show up tonight in her nightgown and a head of hair more dishevelled than a wild bush after a storm. Like, for example, in precisely the same manner as she currently was.

She was lying on her bed, reading a book. He couldn’t make out the title, and it didn’t look familiar. Emilia had acquired an interest in books lately, though he wasn’t sure why. Neither he nor Anna had been responsible for that, so either she’d managed to wade through the hideously complicated library to find what she needed, or she’d asked someone else for suggestions.

“Good evening, brother,” Emilia said, hidden behind the tome.

“Good evening,” he replied. Given the state she was in, she’d likely spent the whole day in her room, reading or napping or… whatever. Also, though the day had been hotter than most, he didn’t understand why so much of her skin had to be exposed.

Seeing his sister lying comfortably reminded him of how long he’d gone without rest. He had an irresistible urge to sit beside her, or anywhere for that matter, as if his body would shut down and make him collapse to the floor if he didn’t. Furthermore, if her face was the closest thing to him, perhaps he’d stop focusing as much on her bare legs, which were begging for his attention.

He circled around the bed and sat on her right. The moment his backside touched the mattress, it was as if a thousand pounds were lifted off him.

“Ah,” he exhaled in length, a wave of relief hitting him.

Emilia closed her book and turned slightly sideways to face him. “How did you like your day of adoration? Did the people pay enough tribute to their God-King?”

“I hope they did. If I had to go out there for more, I’d probably faint on my horse.”

“Yeah, we wouldn’t want your perfect façade to crumble, would we?” she jested.

“Oh, you,” he said, playfully rubbing the blond mess on her head. “You should enjoy it while it lasts. Their enthusiasm will subside sooner than you think.”

“I’ve got better things to do.” An impish smile decorated her face.

“Oh, really? What sort of forbidden sorcery are you reading about this time?”

Emilia sat on the book before it could be snatched away from her. “It’s a secret.”

The way she’d turned towards him made one of her gown’s straps slip, and thus one of her nipples was visible. There was no development to be seen there, although she had been growing in other areas. Good grief. She was only 10, but even so, she was far too defenceless.

“Listen, today’s an important day. I know it’s not your style, but…”

“I should dress up all nice and proper and nubile, right?”

“Well, um…” He wouldn’t phrase it like that, but it was one way to look at it, Marcus supposed.

“Don’t worry, I won’t make too much of a mess out of your plans.”

That didn’t reassure him, but he’d make do with what he had.

“But I must admit,” she continued, “I didn’t think you had it in you. Pimping out your little sister, that is.” To accentuate her point, she raised a long, slender leg, tracing her thigh with her hand, trying to entice a non-existent party.

“I didn’t—I mean… It’s just a formality. You don’t have to—”

Emilia giggled. “You’re so easy to tease, big brother. All work and no play is making you a dull king.”

She was more correct than she realised. He hadn’t had release for _weeks_ now, and it had obviously got to the point where he was having inappropriate thoughts about his own sister. His feelings were a jumbled mess.

“You should go relax before the big event starts. You’re the king now, so it’ll look theatric if you’re a little big late,” she suggested.

“Yeah, that doesn’t sound bad. I’ll think on it,” he said, getting up from the bed.

“What would you do without me?”

“Try to worry a bit about yourself, too, you hear?” he said before leaving her room. He eyed her meaningfully, reminding her not to show up looking like a hobo.

If he knew what she had in store, he’d rather she show up a hobo a thousand times over.

* * *

Despite all the mishaps and the drama leading up to it, the ball kicked off peacefully. Marcus was presented with an unending list of self-styled officials, guild masters, landlords, and royalty, who were lining up for as much of his time as they could afford.

The process was already incredibly boring, but it was made more so by the knowledge that he couldn’t possibly satisfy all of them. Even if he wasn’t bound by the laws of physics, or ethics, or common sense, half of them demanded things which directly conflicted with everyone else. There was no way to please everyone short of duplicating the country or stumbling upon a parallel universe.

It wasn’t only the interest groups that were vying for his time; a number of presentable women were trying their damnedest to get his attention without spelling it out for him. Every old trick in the book was attempted that day: from overtly sensual eating, to wide open necklines exposing breasts almost the size of his head.

He’d be a liar if he claimed they had no effect of him, considering how long he’d gone without his wife, and especially because so many looked better that she’d ever hope to. He should’ve taken his sister’s advice to its logical conclusion and masturbated, but he couldn’t help but feel that would be some sort of transgression now that he was married.

He could probably afford taking any number of them to bed that night if he so wished for it. There weren’t many who’d think lower of him for acting on his urges given the circumstances, and the puritans who would didn’t have the bravery required to directly confront him about that.

His reasons for holding back were twofold: his sense of loyalty towards his wife—naïve though it might have been—and the very high probability of falling victim to a honeypot set up as part of an intricate political ploy. He wasn’t stupid enough to succumb to a politician’s dirty tricks, but what about a hundred of them? A thousand? Even the sharpest minds had _some_ limits, and he didn’t fancy taking risks that would expose his. If his craving for release reached extremes, there were safer avenues.

For the last half hour or so he had been stuck in a conversation with the master of the merchants’ guild, which seemed to drag on forever. The man was a bottomless pit of demands and trivia. Although other people asked for things that contradicted each other, he was the first to contradict _himself_ , achieving a new low in lobbying.

Emilia had yet to show herself, unless she’d somehow snuck in the hall without anyone noticing. That would have been a feat in itself, considering there were more people in the room aiming to get in her pants than in his. This presumably excluded the merchants’ guild master, who hadn’t batted an eye in the face of all the feminine charmers circling the king, instead opting for brain-numbing chatter. Marcus wondered whether his affections swung a different way…

There was an eruption of excitement in the hall, as dozens of heads turned in the same direction, as many mouths gasping or whispering, and yet more of either springing into motion in an effort to figure out what the others were interested in. Marcus couldn’t make out what was being said over the clamour of the crowd, so he turned his head towards the presumed origin. The merchant, of course, wouldn’t be stopped by such trivialities, and kept singing a cacophony of trade minutiae in his right ear. One had to wonder what _would_ be enough to stop him. Open revolt? An earthquake? A cannon ball on his face?

Marcus figured that was an excellent opportunity to excuse himself and ditch the busybody. Perhaps he’d be offended, or perhaps not. He was so eccentric it was difficult to imagine which way he leant. Marcus created as much distance between the two of them as he could, hoping the merchant would lose him in the crowd, difficult as that would be; Marcus was a very large man, at six and a half feet. He didn’t think it’d be very easy to blend in.

It eventually became clear to him what the ruckus was about: his sister had shown up. She’d shown up with her hair properly brushed and braided in a elaborate bun. That exhausted the list of the good things he could say about her appearance. As for the rest, it was absolutely scandalous. No wonder the room had been practically ablaze since her entry. Her outfit screamed “Me! Me me me! Look at me!”

She stopped in front of him and bowed. “Good evening, brother,” she said, a subtle irony in her tone, clear enough for his ears but easily deniable if need be.

The logic behind Emilia’s dress was wearing as little as possible while still being a dress on some etymological level. Or, alternatively, appearing more naked wearing the dress than not. In practice it was a rather simple curtain-like black fabric: two ends were tied in an knot behind her neck to serve as support. It covered her chest, then gradually thinned, ending up as some kind of loincloth covering her genital area and reaching down to her knees for decorative reasons.

She wore nothing else.

Save for the knot around her neck, which was required for the thing not to fall to the floor, all of her behind was exposed, and so were her sides and her limbs, for that matter. In fact, the garment did the absolute minimum necessary to cover up her breasts and vulva, only covering her navel by accident. Even her shoes exposed as much of her skin as possible without her being barefoot. Finally, as if attempting a final hubris against all sense of modesty, the fabric was translucent, not opaque. One could actually make out her skin beneath it—the pale colour contrasting with the black material—although anatomical details were still obscured by the folding around them.

It dawned on Marcus that he was expected to respond, and not to stand there, flabbergasted.

“Good evening, Emilia.” He offered his right hand to her, trying to wrestle some formality back. “May I have the first dance?”

“Why, of course,” she said in wry satisfaction.

Maybe it was because the crowd had died down now, or maybe because it’d just started playing, but Marcus was suddenly aware of the music guiding his motions. He’d been so preoccupied with other things this whole time that it might as well have never existed, though in saying so he realised how little sense it made. It _was_ a ball, after all, so it was only natural that music played. Or maybe he was desperately looking for something to distract his thoughts.

Due to their rather excessive height difference, it was difficult maintaining proper dancing posture; he was a mountain of a man, and she was a 10-year-old girl, barely four feet tall. Nevertheless, with some concessions here and there, it was possible to go through the motions without tripping on one another or worse. He wasn’t exactly twice her height, but he still towered a solid two feet above her.

Her right hand felt so small and frail in his left, as if he wasn’t holding a human appendage at all; his thumb more than half the width of her wrist. He felt that if he held her firmly enough, she’d crumble away into dust, carried away by the wind to decorate the aethers. The only thing that gave away she wasn’t a porcelain doll was her body warmth.

His right hand covered her left shoulder and shoulder blade, once again feeling absurdly oversized against her petite frame. Her skin felt too smooth to be real, as if it was the physical manifestation of some platonic ideal of smoothness, and his contact with it didn’t communicate its smoothness through his own sense of touch, but rather it was directly relayed to his mind, unaffected by the impurities of his sensations.

He could feel her muscles and bones hiding under her skin, like if her outer appearance was but the thinnest of veils over her insides. If he moved his fingers lower, he could feel the bumps of her spine and her ribs. He was doing nothing more than laying his hand on her, and it was already his most sensual experience. The thought that her entire backside was exposed like that, head to toe, only a few motions away from his touch floated in the back of his mind and ate away at his lucidity. He did his best to keep it there, never consciously exploring it, in fear of making it worse.

He figured they could talk to each other, without anyone overhearing them over the sound of the music and the chatter. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“Oh, well, you know,” she giggled. “I thought, gee, that’s a nice reputation as a chaste and fair maiden I have there. Sure would be a shame if something were to happen to it.”

She looked up at him as he looked down on her. She was grinning from ear to ear, knowing full well what she was doing. Her large blue eyes were alight with impish glee. The nipples on her flat chest had got erect as the chilliness of the evening started creeping in, and were easily visible through the translucent fabric hanging from her neck.

He cleared his throat. “I thought we had agreed you show up looking proper.”

“Nice and proper _and nubile_ ,” Emilia corrected him.

“I think you’ll be sending the wrong messages tonight.”

“You’re supposed to be pimping me to royalty and whatnot. Don’t blame me. I merely used some creativity in interpreting the specifics. Besides, you’re so cute when you’re teased.”

Marcus groaned in exasperation.

“Don’t worry. I did my research. Your advisers may complain, but they probably won’t do much about it,” she reassured him.

“Their whining is punishment enough.”

“Oh, brother, you know they’re just bitter old men. Their sensitivities will be offended by having their eyes feast on a sight that doesn’t involve the flabby, slug-like bodies of their wives.” Then, with the faintest of whispers, she added, “We know what they’ll be thinking of tonight.”

He wanted to express his outrage at that remark, but the music came to an end, and so did their excuse for conversation. He pretended to be nonchalant in accepting the applause. He wasn’t sure how much success he’d had. The rumour mill wouldn’t be stopped no matter how good his acting skills were, but there was no sense in feeding it further either.

As soon as the clapping started dying down, they were approached by some dude dressed in some official capacity, the prince of bumfuck nowheresburg. Marcus didn’t pay much attention to his introduction, but he knew what he was up to, and the sooner he let him have his turn frolicking with his sister, the sooner it’d end. He’d observe her from a distance and try not to kill anyone out of spite. Then again, it was arguably more dangerous staying near her and touching her. His willpower was being taxed, even if he wasn’t fully aware of the extent of his stress.

At the very least, the audience was so preoccupied with recent events that he could get a few minutes’ break, relatively speaking. He didn’t have the merchants’ guild master tormenting his ear drums. That was a definite improvement. He used the opportunity to sit down somewhere and maybe get something to drink. If he was busy digesting material then perhaps he wouldn’t dwell on other, highly questionable things.

“I sent your favourite lobbyist on a wild goose chase,” Richard said, manifesting on his right out of thin air. He must have been getting really inattentive not to notice a bipedal tank in full plate armour.

“Oh, really?”

“You don’t have to thank me. I had the sneaking suspicion you had enough on your plate as it is.”

“Are you sure it won’t come back to bite me, or something?”

Richard shrugged. “With any luck, he’ll fall off a balcony and land on his head.”

“As the king, I can’t support the deaths of my subjects. However, if he _were_ to meet a premature end, I wouldn’t be attending his funeral.”

This forced a chuckle out of Richard.

“I thought you weren’t going to be staying here long,” Marcus said.

“Oh, well, you know.” Richard rubbed the back of his head. “I had the scheme set up perfectly, all ready to go, but some other misfortune beat me to it.” He waved in the vague direction of the crowd.

“I see. Well, it seems to have gone alright, so you don’t need to worry.”

“I guess not. I suppose I’ll excuse myself, then.”

Marcus gestured at an exit. “Be my guest. Don’t sleep in too much, Richard.”

“I will make a valiant effort.”

Richard headed off in some direction, and then disappeared into the crowd. As for Marcus, the little solitude he’d carved for himself didn’t last very long. His sister could only entertain everyone for so long before their excitement built up to where they desperately needed some privacy. That’s certainly how he felt like, and tried drowning it in distractions; despite finding lobbying a terrible bore, he ended up lingering in those conversations, and seeking out new ones when he was done.

If he considered his dance with Emilia to be the first in sensuality, then watching her was the runner-up. Marcus had risked his mental well-being _thinking_ of how exposed she was; seeing was on a different level. From behind, it looked like she was wearing nothing; just pure, spotless, uninterrupted skin to lose oneself in. She was tantalising to look at; from her back and spine, beautifully lined with ridges; to her small butt, only now starting to fill out with femininity, decorated by her Venusian dimples; to her long, slim legs that somehow supported her frame; and even her cute little feet. Every part of her begged to be looked at and to be touched. Marcus could hardly resist not jumping onto her to eat her up.

He knew he should run away, find a deserted room, like his bath, for example, and relieve himself as thoroughly as he needed to. As things were now, it wasn’t the individual temptations that were proving problematic. After he was done fighting off inappropriate thoughts, they left behind a vague atmosphere of excitement that would burst from the tiniest hint of arousal.

However, he had to carry out the part of the protective big brother, and ensure that no foul play would be attempted on Emilia. He didn’t know how much of it she had planned beforehand, but she was definitely taking advantage of the situation to tease him: she was clinging closer and more intimately to her partners with her arms or her legs. Likewise, her partners skirted between daring and fearful, sometimes resisting Emilia’s advances with enough effort to make them sweat, other times allowing themselves to cop a feel on the sides of her chest, or trailing closer to her bottom.

Marcus had to keep her within eyesight no matter what she did, and she strategically chose her positioning to ensure he had a good view of her while everyone else was preoccupied in private conversation. Emilia’s dress wasn’t connected with her body anywhere besides her neck, and so depending on her angle with the floor, it could reveal what little it half-arsedly covered.

Though it wasn’t entirely obvious to her partners, she had used precisely this knowledge to give Marcus a fuller view of her chest, which was childlike indeed, as if not a single additional cell had grown since her birth. He somehow found it more salacious in its bony flatness than the most grossly inflated bosoms that had come his way tonight. Additionally, the motions of Emilia’s hips were often dangerously close to exposing her anus or her vulva. The constant feeding of his curiosity was more intolerable than if she had merely spread herself in front of him and let him explore her.

He tried focusing on the matters presented to him, but his heart wasn’t in it. Words came in through one ear and exited from another, with no processing done in between. He was a zombie, but he wanted to believe some of the blame lay on the people who tried ever harder to bore him. Deep down, however, he knew the root of the problem was his inner struggle, as morality fought biology on the matter of boning his sister.

The conflict was paining him greatly. He felt disgusted with himself for being this way about his own family—a 10-year-old child, even! She barely knew what she was doing, never mind her body being prepared for the implications. He was a married man, and he had been caught completely off guard in his first major confrontation. It was an embarrassment and it was abominable.

Fortunately, his robes flowed freely enough for his arousal not to be visible yet, or else he was going to have some really awkward interactions. There still were women trying to get his attention, but they didn’t draw his glance now; he had eyes only for Emilia. At the rate things were going, he wasn’t sure if he could keep it under wraps indefinitely.

The situation stayed like that for an hour or so: juggling inter-faction disputes, politely turning down stupidly unprofitable offers, obsessing over the underage girl’s breasts, buttocks, and legs, mentally flagellating himself for doing so, and then repeating the process. Eventually his arousal reached a point where he felt like he’d climax from looking at her; robes notwithstanding, the stain would be hard to explain. He decided that nothing had happened for over an hour, so Emilia could live another five minutes without his gaze. He also went to refill his glass with something, anything, really; in the worst of circumstances, he could empty it on himself and risk being called clumsy. It was better than proving himself a pervert.

He considered downing a few glasses while he was there to cool his nerves, but that would just as likely make his situation worse by wearing down his inhibitions. The last thing he wanted was his awareness faltering. It was only a little more time, he thought. A little bit more and it would be acceptable to excuse himself. Everyone would be too drunk to care, and they wouldn’t remember a whole lot the day after except maybe his sister’s backside. He’d have to muster all the strength he had left and power through this ordeal. Then he could go have the world’s longest bath and unleash his frustration.

When he felt comfortable looking at Emilia again, she was nowhere to be found. Immediately, his thoughts jumped to a hundred different conclusions. Where did she go? Did something happen to her? How would he face her if he failed to protect her? He needed to know where she went; he was already crumbling mentally from everything that had happened, and this could be the last straw.

He took a few seconds to collect himself. If he acted too rashly, he’d make himself look stupid and attract unneeded attention. He had to carefully examine his surroundings. He didn’t refrain from eye contact for all _that_ long, and if his sister had actually been practising sorcery, he doubted she could teleport herself or make herself invisible in such a short time. He needed to act natural, and no one would be wiser for it.

When he found her, he knew immediately why he’d had trouble doing it. All the way in a corner, and partially obscured by a column, there was Emilia. The reason for the secrecy were the three men around her, clinging onto her like she was the only oasis in an arid wasteland.

* * *

Marcus was nearing his limit, and she knew that. During their dance, she could feel the tension rising in him. It was so tangible she could cut it with a knife. All he could think of, even before the mind-wrecking display she’d put up for him, was getting some privacy as soon as he could afford to, and pleasing himself for the rest of the night. Otherwise, he’d end up ploughing his own sister.

It wasn’t soon enough. She needed him to be broken down completely, his mind a mush, feeling like he was walking through a swamp, or swimming up against a river with an irresistible current. Her body was driving him crazy, but it wasn’t enough to push him over the edge. He needed to be lit up by jealousy, burning with the fury of a sun, his logic and reason crushed under the weight of his instincts and giving way to pure, undiluted compulsion.

He was avoiding her now, which told her he was almost done for. This gave her enough time to hatch her plan. Her brother was the most strong-willed person she knew, and he didn’t have the fortitude to resist her, so the pathetic weaklings hoping to be her princes were no match. She was certain she’d made a few of them come in their pants. She’d do things like “accidentally” rub their inner thighs as they trailed their hands down her spine, and they would start spasming. Their feelings were transparent, no matter how hard they tried hiding them, no matter how deep they buried them.

She barely had to try to lure them in her trap. A few bats of her eyelids and a couple of inviting motions, and she had three men onto her. She hadn’t expected more than one to show up, but apparently there were a bunch of people willing to drop all pretences of formality and jump on her like wild animals. These apes couldn’t fathom being on Marcus’ level. They were so amoral and debauched, they were going to deflower her on the same day she was presented to them, nearing her adolescence but still in large part a child.

Two men were before her, on either side of her; the third one was behind her, resting against the corner. She recognised the last one: he was one of Marcus’ advisers, a decrepit old creep and a stick in the mud. He was likely trying to vent his frustration about what he wasn’t getting from his hag of a wife, or what he never did get. He was preaching about modesty and moderation to the masses and to the royal family every waking day, but now he didn’t think twice before laying hands on the first princess, the king’s own little sister, and a undeveloped child at that. Emilia didn’t know whether to be disgusted at his hypocrisy, or be proud in the knowledge that even the most insecure husk of a man could know true beauty when seeing it.

Marcus noticed her before too long; she could see him in her peripheral vision. He was standing there, not knowing how to react. He probably was still trying to process exactly what it was that he was looking at. _Good_. She was going to give him the performance of a lifetime. She wanted to know how he would handle it. Would he run straight at them, and cave in their skulls with a single well-placed punch each? Would he draw the nearest sword and castrate all three of them? Would he show them how it’s done by taking her right there and then, show them how to properly break in a child, where everyone could see, where everyone could hear?

Knowing he was looking at her in such an intimate state excited her. She was committing some transgression, doing something wrong, befouling some image of purity expected of a 10-year-old girl, doing something a child wasn’t supposed to do. She could feel the heat building up in herself, and especially between her legs. She could feel her arousal leaking down to her thighs and tracing her legs; she was so hypersensitive it made her shiver. She could smell the stench of the men surrounding her; vile, lowly men, who didn’t deserve to touch something as divinely pure as she.

She raised both of her arms and wrapped them around the old man behind her, as she pressed her buttocks against his groin. The man on her right started kissing her collarbone, then moved down to her sides, and then aimed for her armpit. His tongue felt warm and tickly, but it was a surprisingly erotic experience. He enjoyed her smooth skin, a young child’s skin that had never experienced hair growth. He caressed her small arm with one of his hands, his tongue tracing circles around her armpit, covering it with his saliva. With his other hand, he started fondling her chest, pressing against her nonexistent breasts, and occasionally pinching her hard, erect nipples.

The man on her left was kissing her ear, her cheek, and her neck. His hand was on her hip, and he moved lower, touching her outer thigh, then gradually moving inside. He felt her excess lubrication there, and pressed harder between her legs to gain access. She toyed with him for a little while, but she parted her legs eventually, as he slowly, awkwardly reached up towards her kiddy cunt, pushing away the loincloth-like end of her dress obscuring the view. She could feel his fingers when he reached her, as he froze, confused about what he was feeling, before figuring it out: she had covered up her genitals using a strip in the colour of her skin, stuck on her pussy with an adhesive. That didn’t stop the man from trying to stimulate her through it.

The old man behind her took his time to liven up, but after enough friction from Emilia’s backside, he finally got the idea. He lowered his hand down to her arse, making sure to feel every ridge and contour of her back on the way there. He squeezed a buttock and exhaled deeply, as if a million fantasies came to fruition. He put a finger in her butt crack, as he used two others to spread her cheeks wide. She felt a finger touching her hairless, immature anus, feeling her folds and teasing her entrance. Her sphincter tightened by reflex, fuelling his lust. He was probing her rear end for entrance, he was going to stick his finger in there. If her brother didn’t do something soon, he was going to watch his little sister getting touched in her most dirty place, sodomised by this old man.

She was going to lose her mind. She had never felt so hot and so dirty before; she was drenched in her own lubricants. She wasn’t thinking straight, the only thought occupying her mind being how much she craved release. She closed her eyes and imagined her brother doing this to her, her brother playing with her arse, teasing her dirty spot. She imagined him forcing his huge adult dick in her preteen turd cutter, stretching her sphincter to its limits and beyond. She imagined all those people looking at her in disgust, surprise, and arousal, seeing the pure little angel getting her shit pushed in. She was close, she was going to climax, she didn’t care what was going on any more, she just wanted to come.

“Excuse me! Ladies and gentlemen!” her brother’s voice echoed through the room. He was hitting his glass with a fork or something to attract attention. “It’s been an honour having you here tonight. I’d like to thank…”

Marcus went on to deliver a speech of sorts. This promptly made Emilia’s reverse harem fearful, stopping them in their tracks, and also leaving her unsatisfied. Initially, she was angry that he hadn’t acted sooner, and then that he hadn’t let her climax, but the more she thought of it, the more she appreciated the genius of it.

He’d got back on her for all the teasing she’d done on him. He’d diffused the situation without drawing attention to her shenanigans. Her suitors had ran away in fear, not knowing whether he’d seen them, but not really being able to ask him about it either. They were going to live in paranoia for the rest of their short lives, while Marcus was busy pondering the most creative punishment for the three.

Emilia collected herself and put her dress in order. She waited for Marcus to finish his speech and for the applause to die down; the party was revitalised following that. Marcus used the opportunity to sneak out of the room while people were busy frolicking. It was easy to tell from his restlessness what he was about to do, or at least it was easy for Emilia.

He thought he was going to get off easy tonight; that he was going to get some privacy and then pleasure himself however many times it required to feel so exhausted he’d practically faint, to sleep without having to think about what had transpired tonight. Or, at least, that’s what he wanted to believe. In truth, the memories of this night would haunt him to the grave. Countless gallons of jizz would be spilled revisiting these sights, sights exciting him far more than his mediocre wife. Long after Emilia’s marriage, he’d be pondering the possibilities. _What if_? What if he’d taken her that night? What did she feel like on the inside? What experiences had he given away to another man because he’d been too tied up in the social expectations of a good brother to take charge?

Emilia saw the possibilities and tossed them aside. If Marcus was going to take a deep sleep of sexual exhaustion tonight, he wouldn’t be doing it alone.

* * *

Marcus rushed to his chambers as fast as he could without actually running on the way there. He wasn’t paying attention to his pacing, as his mind was caught in a feedback loop over what had happened. He still couldn’t make full sense of it. What was Emilia thinking? Didn’t she understand the danger? Didn’t she understand the millions of ways it could go wrong, the ways her reputation could be besmirched forever, the extent of the harm she could inflict on the royal family that way? It would have taken a lifetime or more to fix it. And yet…

And yet he couldn’t take his mind off it. At first, he couldn’t believe his own eyes, thinking it a stress-inflicted hallucination. When his brain had processed the image, he didn’t rush to his sister’s aid, or say something, or do _anything_ for that matter. He only stood there, watching, waiting, almost frozen in place.

Aroused out of his mind.

He didn’t know how he made it to his bedroom; his body must have been acting on its own accord. His thoughts dwelt on his sister. Seeing her like that with three men, including men he _trusted_ , lit a seething hatred and jealousy inside of him. It had taken everything in his power not to kill them all right there. It had taken everything in his power not to climax. Those three, they were touching Emilia in places so full of lust, so full of purity, in ways he now very much envied. She had welcomed their advances, and she had known he was looking; this had to be another one of her tricks, another way to fuck with him.

He’d be furious if he wasn’t so horny. He wasn’t thinking straight. His mind was a mess. Maybe she’d gone back to them now that he wasn’t there, but he couldn’t afford to be near her any more, or he’d do far worse. Gods, she was so young, so tiny, so absolutely perfect. He could remember her sucking on their mother’s teat, or taking a ride on his shoulders, or playing house together.

Barely ten years had gone by since her birth. Nothing about her indicated maturity. She was just a baby. She hadn’t yet had her first period; she wasn’t fertile! But despite that, she’d taken advantage of his loneliness, and his stress, and his weird marriage, and now all he could think of was fucking her. Some part of him felt like puking, and another part of him made his cock twitch.

He started undressing; he needed to relieve himself immediately. His thoughts were going down a dangerous direction, and if he didn’t put an end to them he feared he’d be doing something colossally stupid before long. He didn’t know how he’d clean up. He’d figure that out later. This wasn’t the best place to be doing these things, but at least no one would dare bother him. He could feel a soft breeze against his sweat-covered skin, and he could feel the pounding of his heart. He put his hand on his organ.

The door opened and closed behind him. Someone had entered the room. He panicked; he had been seen. He quickly reached for his discarded clothes and covered himself up as best he could. Not two seconds must’ve had passed before he’d turned around to see who it was, but they had felt like an eternity.

Emilia stood there, a devilish expression on her face, still wearing the black semitransparent barely-a-dress she had all night. He looked at her, and she looked at him. He didn’t know how much time had passed before anyone spoke; it was as if time froze. He couldn’t stand to see her in his condition, especially not dressed like that. He could feel his cock involuntarily oozing under the robes he’d put over it. “Take her!” his senses said. “Take her now!” He felt like he was going to drop dead from the sheer effort of his resistance.

“Hello, brother,” she said. She took off her footwear and put them in some corner, intentionally drawing as much attention to her body as possible, even in this seemingly innocuous act.

“What are you doing?!” he blurted out. He tried looking around for the rest of his clothes—he was still mostly naked—but he couldn’t take his eyes off Emilia. Her feet were more bare now. They were so small, so beautiful, and so perfectly shaped. Oh, how he wished he could be the carpet right now, so he could feel them against his body.

She approached him. “Did you like my show?” She walked slowly and methodically towards him, shaking her hips on her way there. “I tried so very hard to pull it off right. I studied every day, learning new things, improving my methods.” When she got within reach, she raised her arm and put a finger on his hip.

He pushed her away with as little force as he could. “Why are you doing this?” He tried stepping back, to increase the distance, but he could only make it so far before he was stopped by the bed.

She got near him again. “I told you. You’re easy to tease, and you’re cute when I tease you.” Once again she put a finger on his hip, then started raising it up to his abdomen, feeling his toned muscles. She was so tiny and insignificant compared to him; he was two feet taller. Her fingers felt so soft against his skin. He could feel her warmth. What would it feel wrapped around his cock?

This time he grabbed her arm. “Emilia. Listen to me. You don’t know what you’re doing. I am your brother, and you are my sister. I’m a married man now. You’re a child. I don’t know what you’re thinking, but it can’t be done.” There was something in her eyes when he grabbed her, but it wasn’t fear or surprise. It was different. Could it be, she…?

“I know full well,” she continued. She raised her other arm, and now reached his abdomen from the other side. “I know all about it, big brother. I’ve read the royal memoirs, I’ve read our lore and history.” She’d reached the arm that was holding the robes covering his genitals. “I watched on the day of your marriage; you’d asked for the night patrol to keep a distance, so it was easy for me to do. I’ve watched you in all your… In all your glory. I watched as you were denied like a mutt.”

He was trying to process what she was saying with so much passion, so much stress in her voice. Her breaths were deep, exhausted, like there was blockage in her chest. On his wedding night, last year, that’d make her 9 years old. How long had this thing been going on for?

“Emilia, I—”

She put her hand over his. “You don’t have to hide from me, brother. Your queen, she may never understand you, but I am here for you.” She looked up at him with those large, girly blue eyes, and he knew immediately she was speaking from her heart. “You don’t have to be ashamed. These people… they just fear what they don’t understand, and what they cannot match, and what will forever be beyond them. You can show yourself to me. Let it go.”

Marcus could think of a million different reasons why that was a bad idea. There wasn’t any universe wherein that didn’t end up poorly. He wasn’t stupid; he knew what his sister was up to, and he knew how wrong it could go. He could hurt her, or scare her, or traumatise her, and they might be found out and ruin everything he’d built up since coming to power, and maybe scar the nation for decades to come.

And while all of those were valid points, and would be reason enough not to press the matter further individually, never mind in unison, he couldn’t bring himself to turn his sister down. She’d brought her feelings forth in earnest, she’d embraced him so tenderly, and with so much passion, that the thought of discarding her feelings and stepping on them was scarier than any of the other possibilities. She was ultimately his only little sister, and if there was anything he hated above all else, it was her being sad, or worrying that her big brother didn’t love her back as much as she hoped he did.

Begrudgingly, he let go of his sister’s arm and the cloth over his groin. The garment fell to his feet; he couldn’t hear the sound over his own heart’s thumping. He was fully visible to Emilia now, as visible as the day he was born. A flurry of emotions hit him: shame, disgust, guilt, but also other, more enjoyable things. He closed his eyes and tried to calm himself down. There was no going back from this. This night was only going to end one way.

Emilia gasped upon the sight that differentiated her brother the most from ordinary men. Though his other qualities were truly remarkable, this was the one that put the matter to rest. The people called their king and their crown prince “the Stallion”, but contrary to popular belief, this wasn’t originally intended to denote vigour, or strength, or freedom. The meaning was far less symbolic than that: the royal males’ genitals weren’t human.

The affliction was the result of a sorcery whose specifics have long since been obscured. No one knew whether it was intended as a gift or as a curse, but either way it was supernatural in origin and in the traits it bestowed. The king’s body was always inherently strong, large, and durable. His sexual fluids held powerful rejuvenating properties, and were also a great help for making his receptive partners more… suitable. With some creativity, they could produce effects more exciting still.

Emilia had read everything she could find on the subject in the royal library. She wondered what the limits of could be. Her parents did seem to age very gracefully, almost intentionally. Was their retirement something borne of old age and tiredness, or were they planning on living the rest of eternity in immortalised youth?

Her royal highness, the queen, had shown none of that curiosity, and instead had crawled away in fear and disgust. She’d treated Emilia’s dear brother like an animal, even after he’d tried explaining to her what his condition meant. She’d spouted some moralistic inanities and lambasted “bestiality”; she denied her own husband the embrace and the release he deserved. If she’d been with anyone else, her marriage would have been annulled, or she would’ve been dead, or she would’ve been forced to bed him. There would eventually be questions about her infertility. Emilia couldn’t stand the thought of her brother spawning a successor with that ugly, close-minded and excruciatingly mediocre wench. Their blessed bloodline would never recover.

No. If her brother was to mate and bond with someone like that, if he was going to share his ancient secret, then he deserved doing it with someone who loved him and adored him just the way he was, politics be damned. If he wouldn’t have a mistress carry his child and be the wife his queen refused to be, then Emilia herself would fill that role. There was no one in the world who cared for him the way she did, no one more willing to perform her duties than she, no one a more natural partner in the world. She was most compatible, because she was his little sister.

She had seen her brother’s might from behind a keyhole, or a gap, or hidden behind curtains and under furniture; she also wasn’t a stranger to the stables and the wild fury that possessed the males. Still, being that close to her brother was a different matter altogether. The strong musk assaulted her nostrils, the stench as inhuman as the shape. It was a foot long and only partially erect; she knew it would reach a ludicrous size with a little encouragement.

“Oh, big brother,” she gasped, grasping his flesh with her small hands. Marcus shivered to the sensation, a storm of conflicting emotions still raging inside of him. It was Emilia’s responsibility to quell it, to give him so much pleasure that he forgot his hesitations. Her juvenile hands couldn’t hope to wrap around Marcus’ girth, which must have been over a foot; he was four inches wide. The mere fact of her holding it was obscene; someone so young and petite being in touch with something so large and beastly. It was as if they were two different species.

She stroked its length gently, from the base to the tip, covering as much of her brother’s flesh as she could. Her own heart was racing with the act, not quite believing what she was seeing. She was enthralled by her brother’s size now that she had made direct contact with him. She doubted she’d ever look at a normal man the same way again. The greatest men would be dwarfed by what her brother could give her. All plans for her marriage were moot; her heart belonged to Marcus now, if it hadn’t before.

Marcus’ breaths gradually turned from ones of anxiety to ones of pleasure, as more and more blood reached his massive organ and inflated it further. “You are so big,” Emilia said, feeling the blood being pumped under the skin. “You are greater and more beautiful than I ever imagined.” She kept stroking his length with one hand, as she moved the other down to his testicles, which were as grotesquely oversized as his penis.

Emilia’s hands felt softer than the softest silk against his dick. He felt the tiny appendages dancing on his genitals, feeling his size, worshipping him in their own way. He could climax from her hands if he let himself; the sensation was that great. He couldn’t believe his little sister was touching him this way, that she was doing it so passionately and of her own will. It felt so dirty and forbidden; a 10-year-old’s hands wrapped around a horse cock.

“I love you, big brother,” Emilia continued while maintaining her stroking, gently fondling Marcus’ balls and tracing his still expanding length. “I’ve loved you for so long, I don’t remember myself before that. When you got married, I… I didn’t know what to do. I was there, I was looking at you on that night. You don’t know what it took not to burst into the room and hold you like this.”

Marcus looked down on her after her confession. His penis had reached its full length of two feet. Emilia rested his shaft on her right shoulder, and then leaned on it, rubbing her cheek against the flesh. The size discrepancy was uncanny; his phallus was gigantic compared to any part of her anatomy. It was as long as her arm and as wide as her thigh. If his blood pressure wasn’t helping keeping it erect, she’d probably strain under the weight of his meat.

Emilia brought both her arms to it, holding it tenderly, like she was trying to hold a baby. “I feared you’d never let me hold you like this,” she said, want outpouring from the intonation of every word. “To be able to touch you so privately, I’ve only dreamed of it. It’s like I’m still dreaming. I feel like my life is complete now; that I’ve achieved my purpose, my ultimate goal.” She spaced these words out with kisses, her tiny, moist lips gracing his enormous cock like manna from heaven. Every time she did so, his penis twitched with pleasure, every touch being a struggle against orgasm. She wasn’t doing anything to him, but it felt like the most ecstatic bliss, something unique, that only she could offer. The mere sight of her being like this was incredibly arousing.

It took great effort to interrupt her embrace, but his desire to embrace her back was greater. “Oh, Emilia…,” he said, dropping to his knees so that their postures were more even. Her expression was irresistible; her wide, beautiful eyes; the cute proportions on her face that only a child could bear; her half-opened mouth, tiny and crimson lips glistening with traces of her own saliva. He couldn’t bear to only look, and with both his arms around her, he locked his lips with hers.

He’d intended for it to be a sweet and loving kiss, but he lost himself in it with wild abandon, like he was trying to vent all of his frustrations through it, and so he pressed himself against her tightly, shoving his adult tongue in the preteen’s mouth and exploring every cell of her cavity. He touched her young tongue with his, he tasted her saliva, and he felt her wet warmth enveloping him. He kept it going for long, much longer than would seem appropriate, covering Emilia’s face with their combined spit that couldn’t be contained, trickling down her throat.

Emilia was gasping for air as best she could. She wrapped her arms around his neck and tried to kiss him back, though her childish tongue was no match. He rubbed his hands on her back, taking in the softness of her flesh, the outline of her ribs and her spine, lowering them dangerously close to her butt.

After a while, Emilia started spasming, her posture wavering, as she focused on her taboo orgasm. Her brother was kissing her. Her big brother was ravaging her mouth like it would save the world. She could feel his penis against her; even in this position, it was too big to avoid. She felt it on her legs, and on her belly. She could feel its movements matching Marcus’ heartbeat, could hear its silent cries for her body. Her big brother wanted to be inside her, perhaps more than she wanted him to enter her.

Though his aching had far from subsided, Marcus broke the kiss, because Emilia was having trouble catching her breath, and he didn’t want her to fall unconscious. Her mouth stayed open like that for a short while, strands of spit connecting them, then breaking and falling on her. Marcus embraced her again, this time in a hug, petting her softly, protectively.

“Big brother,” she exhaled heavily. “My first kiss. My first love.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know how you felt. I didn’t know my little sister was like that.”

Emilia found the strength to speak, though her mouth felt a little bit strained. “It’s okay. It’s alright. All that matters is that you love me now. Everything else is in the past.” She hugged him back, though she couldn’t wrap her arms completely around him. She felt his toned, powerful muscles of his large body. She had never felt so secure before. “Although, I must admit, it would’ve been nice if you had picked up on it a bit sooner.”

“How long has it been like this?”

“It’s been a long time.” Emilia chuckled. “I remember walking in on you having a bath; you were so taken aback!”

After such an emotional roller-coaster, it was difficult for Marcus to immediately grab the image from memory. After a few seconds, when he recalled it, he was once again taken aback so much that he broke the hug.

“Really? But, that must have been—”

“About five years ago,” Emilia interjected. She grinned widely, as she reached down to Marcus’ dick, and began stroking it again. “I remember going to sleep every night with thoughts of my big brother. I kept thinking about you over and over _and over_ , obsessively fantasising about us being together, doing stuff. Horrible, taboo stuff, beyond all reaches of decency, stuff no kid should think of.”

She placed a hand on her stomach, and rubbed the area, while tracing as much of Marcus’ length as she could with the other. “And during the really hot nights, I dreamt of my big brother snapping, losing it, and sneaking into my room. I dreamt of you feeling my young body up, even as I was conflicted and confused; I dreamt of that huge horse cock forcing itself inside your 5-year-old sister, dreamt of being split in half.”

Her arousal was dripping down her legs, and she brought Marcus’ erection to her thighs and her crotch so he could feel it. “I couldn’t tell you how many times I thought of that, it must be thousands by now. My little body felt so hot and tingly, and despite not knowing what I felt, I knew what I wanted and why. When I pictured my baby womb being utterly crushed and bruised, it was as if everything stopped existing, and nothing else mattered.”

She edged herself closer to him, rubbing herself on him. He could feel the bottom of her dress against his cock and his legs; he could feel her hard nipples through the fabric. Though the words coming out of his sister’s mouth disgusted him and creeped him out, the very fact of hearing something so obscene coming from her filled him with a deep, dark desire.

She was now whispering in his ear. “I tried so hard to seduce you, to tease you, to make you lay aside your qualms and your morality and show your insolent tease of a sister why she shouldn’t mess with adults. Every time you got annoyed, my tiny pussy was dripping from the thought of being manhandled, dropped to the floor and turned into a kiddy cock sleeve. I wanted you to own me, to pummel me with fury and lust, to expose my disgrace in front of everyone, in front of parents; little Emilia playing with her dolls, little Emilia torn in two by her brother.”

Marcus was harder than a rock now. Thinking back on all his memories with Emilia, they acquired a whole different colour in the knowledge of her depravity. The possibilities of what he could’ve done but hadn’t were enough to drive him crazy.

“So that’s why you tried to prostitute yourself in front of my eyes,” Marcus realised.

“Yes, brother. I wanted you to look. I wanted you to see. See what those animals had snatched while you doubted yourself.” She raised both her arms up, in replay of what had happened before. As she described the events, Marcus reenacted them on her. “They felt me up everywhere. They put their tongues on my armpits and swallowed my sweat. They tasted my developing glands like they were sweet nectar.”

“They touched my breasts, flat as the day I was born, the ultimate mark of a child, and they grabbed them and squeezed them and pinched them. They enjoyed them more than the full chests of a fertile woman, they indulged in their sick, twisted desires. They felt my overflowing arousal, trickling down my young thighs. They craved for my underage pussy that dribbled more than a trained slut.”

Her breathing was growing heavy, and her speech slow as her arousal increased. “And then… and then… they felt up my back, slowly, methodically, all the way to my butt. Then, they— Oh, brother!”

“Continue,” Marcus whispered in her ear.

“Using a finger, they felt my dirtiest spot, they— ah!” She exclaimed in a cute, high pitch, as her brother carried the acts out like she was giving him instructions. She could hardly keep going, as the fantasy she’d constructed earlier today was becoming reality in front of her. “They touched me where I poop from, brother! Ah! They… they wanted to sodomise me, they wanted to shove their decadent penises in my tight kiddy arsehole, but you didn’t let them! Oh, brother, I want you so much.”

She pushed Marcus back with as much force as he could muster, and he obliged by falling on the bed. Emilia stood upright, and raised her hands behind her neck, undoing the knot that held her dress in place. It fell to the floor, and now she stood before him as naked as he was. Marcus took in the sight; her tight, underage body, so slim and soft.

Emilia stood on Marcus’ lap, kissing him lightly on the lips. Then she arched back a little, grabbed his penis, and placed it against her abdomen and chest, drawing attention to how insane the difference was. His shaft was practically half her standing height, so placed like that it covered her entire upper body.

“You are so big, brother,” she said, placing both her arms on it, giving a hug to the equine member. “It’s going to hurt so much inside me. It’s going to hurt so good. Big brother’s cock.”

She placed her tongue on his cock tip and started licking it, taking in the taste and the smell. The stink was powerful and masculine and distinctly her brother’s; she couldn’t mistake it for anything else. The sensory overload made her dizzy. She toyed around with the head, licking around it and under it, while rubbing her arms, torso, thighs, and groin against it, stimulating it with her entire little body. She could feel Marcus’ heartbeat through it, granting it heat, and making it erect. She couldn’t believe how much of her it covered, and wanted to touch every part of it with her body.

Marcus was covered in his little sister’s warmth. Her soft skin felt completely different from his own, her body acting like a cocksleeve even on the outside. Looking at the young child trying to juggle such a massive organ excited him; he was oozing precome now. As soon as she noticed it, Emilia scooped it up with her tongue, and then kept drinking it, sticking her small tongue inside his peehole so she could taste it straight from the source.

Already she could feel its effects on her, changing her little body so that it could house it without destroying her. She grew more daring, placing larger, longer kisses and licks on his shaft. She lowered her hands between his thighs, reaching for his testicles, and holding them both in her combined grip, or at least as much of them as she could muster with her petite form. As more fluids flowed out of Marcus, she drank them up while massaging his sack.

“Big brother, I want you to kiss me in my deepest part, where no man could ever hope to reach. I want to taste your every inch.”

Marcus couldn’t think of much in his condition. “Emilia…,” he mumbled. Inside, he was still struggling with how far he could take it with her, despite knowing they’d already crossed so many boundaries, and broken so many rules. And yet, that tiny mouth, those soft lips, they enticed him to no end. His protective instincts told him not to hurt her, but she had said she wanted to be hurt, and so a forbidden, unspoken part of him quietly demanded that he oblige.

“I need an answer. You need to decide fast, or else…” She squeezed his balls, and yet more precome came forth, as if on command. “You’re so close.” She turned her massage more powerful, and more sensual, like she was milking a cow. “Quick, or you’ll spray it like a fountain on me. You will shower me in your milk.”

“Y-yes. Emilia, I want to feel you, too.”

She looked so satisfied at the sound of his words. “I love you, big brother,” she said. She kissed the sides of his glans widely, experimenting with how much of his penis she could fit in her mouth, and consuming his precome periodically. When she felt bold enough, she opened her mouth wide and tried fitting his head in. The penetration seemed impossible; it was like trying to swallow an arm. However, where there’s a magically enchanted royal bloodline and a will, there’s a way.

Emilia’s mouth was stretched well beyond what should be her natural limits; by all accounts, she should have dislocated her jaw and torn her lips. She had Marcus’ excretions to thank for not screaming in agony as she managed to fit his full girth in her with great effort. It took some time for her to get used to being stretched so much, but soon her interest was reinvigorated.

She pressed more of the pole inside of her as she licked his undershaft, quickly filling up her mouth. Marcus was letting out loud gasps of pleasure, but she had no plans of stopping. Repositioning herself so that her neck and torso had a smoother angle, she kept forcing inches down her gullet. She felt her sphincters giving way as the horse cock entered her oesophagus and expanded it to an almost comical degree. But _even still_ she yearned for more, and gulped down the seemingly unending length on offer as it pressed down on her lower sphincter and teased her stomach; then as it, too, gave way, and opened access to her little belly, now populated with her brother’s flare.

“Goodness, Emilia!” Marcus blurted out. His little sister had bent over his groin and had somehow stuffed a full foot of his phallus in her. There was no greater expression of their differences than the knowledge of only being halfway done. Despite that, the sensation made everything else Marcus had experienced pale in comparison; her tightness was bordering on the uncomfortable, and her heat and wetness surrounded him from every direction. He hadn’t fully come to terms with current events, but it was undeniable now: he was fucking his little sister.

Emilia let things be momentarily, mostly for her own comfort than anything else. When she felt her breath running short, she pulled her head up and reversed the process, until the organ was outside her again—dripping in her fluids—and she was frantically catching her breath.

She stepped off her brother’s lap and lowered to her knees on the floor while reaching for his arms, gently guiding them to her neck. “Big brother, I want you to fuck my throat. I want you to feel the distension in my young neck as you ruthlessly rape it, as you force your horse cock all the way in my stomach and stir my dinner up.” She went on to caress and kiss his shaft, as Marcus built up the courage required to follow through with her requests.

“Okay,” he conceded, after only a few seconds of teasing. In his near orgasmic state, they had felt like an eternity; his sister edging him close, but denying him release every time. He got on his own knees and put his hands on her shoulders and neck. “I’ll try my best not to hurt you.”

Emilia opened her mouth wide again and swallowed his dick, but this time Marcus was a proactive participant, pressuring her forward and guiding her motions. His cock parted her sphincters with little of the original resistance, though they still coiled around him like the tightest of knots. With his fingers around her neck, he could feel it inflating as he violated the child’s throat, penetrating it all the way through to her stomach, until twelve inches were buried inside her and he couldn’t impale her any deeper.

She put her own hands on his testicles and milked them as he explored her insides. With a large motion, he pulled out of her until he wasn’t blocking her breathing, and allowed her a couple seconds of relief before penetrating her again. He took perverse pleasure in the deformation of his baby sister’s throat, both hands enfolding it now to take in every stretch and motion. He could feel the blood pumping in and out of her head, and her involuntary efforts for air.

Once he’d got the hang of it, Marcus increased the rhythm. He was unambiguously throat fucking the 10-year-old, pushing his little sister’s mouth pussy to its limits and beyond. Once the feelings of guilt gave way to dark pleasure, he manhandled her without remorse, only sparing her enough consideration for her not to asphyxiate.

Those lovely baby lips of hers were now wrapped around his beastly cock, and her elegant neck was being torn apart by her own brother. Her food pipe was milking him for semen much like her hands on his balls were. He buried himself in her warmth and her moisture, fucking her impulsively, each motion bruising her throat a little bit more. The mass entering and exiting her was obscene; no person would be able to do it, never mind one so young. Saliva and lubricants were coming out of her mouth with his every exit, as the vacuum changed, and were matched with sloppy, wet sounds and her high-pitched moans.

For a moment, nothing existed in the world but the two of them; not his wife, not his duties, not his moral conduct. He fucked his little sister without concern, only deviant joy. He could’ve had any woman he’d wanted; it wasn’t like she was the last viable female in the world. Hundreds, thousands would line up for a chance to lie with him. He’d made the conscious decision to fuck a preteen despite all the nubile, fertile beauties begging for a moment of his time. That made it all the more twisted.

He wondered how far he could let it go. He wondered what would happen if he took her up on her offer, and forced both feet of his cock in her infantile body. Would she embrace him as lovingly as he tore through her flesh and bathed in her blood? How would would it feel to be balls deep inside a 10-year-old child? The feeling of deflowering her young throat was like a gift from heaven.

With one last motion, he buried himself deep in her stomach and unleashed all his pent up sexual frustration. His cock flared widely, and a torrent of semen came gushing forth right inside her stomach, emptying his balls as her tiny fingers stroked them. He filled her up until there was nothing left to fill up, and his semen overflowed back up her throat and spilled out of her mouth and nose, covering her chest and the floor with fluids.

He stayed inside her until the spasms stopped and he’d poured every last drop in her stomach. With one smooth motion, he pulled out of her, twelve inches of somewhat softer horse cock escaping her kiddy mouth, a sight that he could never get enough of. He had trouble getting his flaring tip out of her, scooping up a significant chunk of his come with it, preventing her from digesting his fluids. He exited with a pop, as Emilia kept puking more semen, gasping for air when she was done.

Marcus knelt beside her and tried cleaning her using his discarded robes. “I’m sorry, Emilia! I, uh… I don’t know what took over me. Are you alright? Do you need help?”

She shook her head and laid her weight against him when her stomach stopped churning. Marcus petted her head as she looked up at him in their afterglow. She felt so petite and fragile in his arms; his pure, beautiful baby sister. He put his other arm under her legs, picked her up, and rested her on the bed, which was decisively more comfortable than the floor, and then joined her.

“You’re such a perv,” Emilia said, snuggling under his arms, feeling right at home inside the protective embrace of her big brother. “You protested every step of the way, but when push came to shove, you didn’t hesitate in forcing your most equine of parts down my throat.”

“Don’t eschew your own responsibility. You couldn’t possibly have begged for it more. I had nothing but your best interest in mind.”

Emilia nested herself closer, using Marcus’ body like a blanket, covering her exposed form under his limbs, with her back pressing against his chest. She felt his fingers exploring her features, fixating particularly on her breasts.

“I’m sorry I don’t have much to offer,” she said. She knew Marcus loved her, but there was no denying physical reality. “I’m sure you’d much rather a less boyish woman, with a fuller, less childish form.”

“What are you talking about? You are perfect the way you are.” He placed a series of kisses from her shoulder to her neck, producing giggles along the way. “My perfectly flat little sister,” he added, fondling her breasts and pinching a nipple.

Emilia slapped his cheek playfully. “Paedophile,” she teased. “All these succulent temptresses to choose from, and yet the one you’re boning is a mere child.” She tried imitating an old man’s voice: “Absolutely reprehensible behaviour!”

“If you’ve made a degenerate out of me tonight, then I’m in big company. Enthusiastic, even.”

Emilia couldn’t help but laugh at the thought. “Oh my. Whatever shall we do with the lot, I wonder?”

“I can’t really do anything about the oglers. They can’t be faulted for staring; you do have a most tempting backside.” Emilia reacted to that comment by pressing said backside closer to his body. “As for the more proactive trio, as much as I would love to feed their paranoia for some time, I think it’d be best to take immediate action. I doubt any punishment would be considered over-the-top for ‘inappropriate conduct’ towards the nation’s dear princess.”

“Try not to be too strict, though; you might want an escape plan for if anyone catches whiff of tonight.”

“I guess I can sympathise with their plight. I’ll try to reign in the jealousy.” Marcus planted a kiss on Emilia’s cheek. “After all, they didn’t have enough time to do anything.”

“Speaking of jealousy, tell me, big brother, how do I compare with your queen?”

“Well, uh, that’s…”

Emilia fumbled about and located Marcus’ semi-erect penis with her lower body, placing her feet on it and stroking it. “You _have_ seen her naked, right? I’m not remembering it wrong.”

“Yeah, I have. I mean, it’s only expected.”

“So? How does she compare?” she pressed on, her earlier impish tone returning. She manipulated him through her stroking, using her soles to arouse his manhood.

“Well, um. That’s a very difficult question…,” he replied, feeling extremely awkward in this situation.

“Is it?” she insisted, while focusing her attention to the tip of his penis, the flare having long subsided, though still maintaining an unmistakable mushroom shape; she played with it using her toes. “Is it really?”

“Okay, okay, alright! I confess: she has nothing on you. She is but a gargoyle in comparison. You’re an angel, radiating beauty from every part, and she’s plain and boring.”

Emilia hummed in satisfaction inside her brother’s all-encompassing hug. “I love it when you’re honest, big brother. Don’t worry about anything but the bare essentials with her. I will take care of all your needs.”

“Okay, but try not to be too obvious about it.”

“Oh, and something else, big brother… Do you really fancy my feet that much?” She pointed out his raging hard-on under her grasp, Marcus having attained his full length again. “I’ve noticed how you’ve been staring at me all night. It can’t merely be a physiological reaction. That’s quite the weird fetish.”

With a quick motion, Marcus turned her around so she was lying on her back, and kissed her deeply. It was true; he found her legs and feet to be highly sensual. He was aroused by her tiny soles and toes trying to manage his enormous horse cock, and how wide her motions had to be for her to stroke his full length. She kept the footjob going during their kiss, his excitement building up fast. 

Marcus straightened his posture, towering over Emilia, so that he could look at her work. She raised her legs higher up, her feet nearing his face. “Since you like them so much, why don’t you kiss them too?” she offered.

He didn’t think twice before taking her up on that offer, grabbing her legs and placing a probing kiss on an ankle. He edged himself closer to her, resting his cock between her thighs and on her stomach. He was large enough to reach up to her face, and she could feel the weight against her body. Feeling something so big and powerful on her turned her on; she placed her arms around the shaft and kissed the glans.

Marcus licked his sister’s soles; he was a very large man, and she was a petite 10-year-old child, and the size difference was blatant in how much area he could cover. Even down there, in body parts never meant to be erotic, Emilia’s inherent charms were evident. She was soft and smooth and tiny. Marcus couldn’t help but feel he was touching her somewhere somewhere forbidden, making his actions all the more intimate.

When he’d got enough of her soles, he went on to nibble on her toes. He could fit a lot of the underage child’s feet in his mouth, focusing on each individual toe of both limbs, making sure he enjoyed every aspect of her anatomy to the fullest. He alternated between Emilia’s two feet; she gently caressed his face with the one that wasn’t getting serviced.

As weird as she had found the idea initially, she couldn’t deny how affectionate it felt. She felt like her big brother was committing a taboo; devouring a most private part. She could tell he was immersed in the act and overtaken by the thrill. He moved his hips involuntarily, and with his cock between her legs, it felt like he was having sex with her thighs.

Though the adhesive strip protecting her genitals hadn’t been removed, she could feel the friction on them, which in turn aroused her too. She didn’t want to admit it, but she was kind of getting into it, too; initially, it felt like Marcus was tickling her feet, but now it wasn’t all fun and games. Eventually, her arousal became too much to bear, and she lowered a hand to her privates, as she kept stroking her brother’s horse cock with the other.

Marcus was in his own little world, servicing Emilia’s lower body limbs. He kept concentrating on her toes and soles, but was also paying attention to her slender calves. His hip movements were growing rougher and faster, as did his excitement; he could probably climax from Emilia’s legs and thighs without ever penetrating her. In fact, he’d much rather release his seed like that than in the orifices of any other woman, as no one could possibly compare to his sublime baby sister.

He felt Emilia twitching in orgasmic pleasure, soft moans escaping her mouth, and her breathing growing heavier. That broke him out of his trance just long enough to notice her trying to pleasure herself, a finger buried between her buttocks and playing with her anus. Although he’d love to spurt semen all over her body from the stimulation of her legs, he knew Emilia probably had other plans for tonight, and he didn’t want to be that selfish.

Emilia noticed his awareness, and immediately her face reddened. “Ah, big brother…,” she said, her certainty finally giving way to some shyness. She had tried to appear confident and in control, she still was a little 10-year-old girl deep down, and she was ever so slightly ashamed she was taking so much joy out of her feet and her bum. That wasn’t how sex was supposed to work. It was so wrong, yet pleasurable in its debauchery.

“I can’t be the only one having fun here, can I?” Marcus said. He spread her legs wide and took his penis off her abdomen, so her pelvis was clearly visible. Her arousal was obvious even through the adhesive strip, which had lost most of its potency and was now barely sticking on her young flesh. “It’s a bit unfair, you know. I’ve been naked all this time, but you’ve been hiding your nicest part.”

“Oh, brother. You can take it off, if you want to,” she said, although she was apprehensive about being fully exposed in front of him. She knew he loved her in earnest, but that was the place where her childishness would be most evident, and she feared disgusting or alienating her dear brother.

Marcus grabbed a loose corner and easily removed the strip, which was dripping with Emilia’s fluids. Her pussy was glistening and pink; it was as smooth and tiny as the day she was born, with barely any development having taken place since. There were no labia minora or a clitoris to be seen behind the child’s puffy lips, only the vague hint of a bright pink slit, waiting to be spread. If there were any doubts that he was fucking around with an underage girl before, they were gone now.

“So, Emilia, where do you want me to, um…”

She fumbled about for a little bit to collect her nerves, but she eventually responded. “I’d love to be sodomised on the royal bed, and I know you’re interested in that sort of thing, too, given how much you’ve talked about my rear end, but…” She lowered her hands to her cunt and spread it apart. “I need you to prove your dedication to me. I want you to take my virginity.”

“Emilia…”

“It’s okay, big brother. If you’re worried about soiling me, I’m sure a gulp of your milk would suffice to undo any lasting effects, and maintain my pristine prepubescent state you’re infatuated with. I could even be made to appear younger, if that’s what you’re into.”

An imagine of the tiny, 5-year-old Emilia obsessing over his body flashed through his mind momentarily, but it was immediately dismissed. “No, I—”

“But for now, I need you to prove you are serious. I truly love you, big brother. I’m not playing around just to have a good time. I’m prepared to give my everything for you.”

“I feel the same way.”

“So I want you to take me as you would a proper woman. We can do the rest later, if you want.” Emilia blushed again as she displayed her vulva and vagina to her brother. “Y-you don’t need to worry. I haven’t had my period yet, so— ah!”

Marcus had heard all that needed to be said, so he took the initiative and kissed his sister’s lower lips. Her baby cunt tasted so sweet and rejuvenating; a juice he was the first to drink. The first man to touch her, to lick her, to open her slit and explore her insides.

“Oh, brother…! I want you to take me, I want you to fuck me with your huge cock!”

He obeyed as soon as he was done ensuring she was wet enough. Looking down, it seemed impossible that this undeveloped body could take any man, never mind one of his proportions. She was a 10-year-old child, unfit to be wed, or to bear children. She was petite, hairless, and skinny, with no signs of maturity. Her vulva was as virginal as a newborn’s.

And yet… the passion that dominated him when he poked her entrance with his glans was unprecedented. She was pouring lubricants like a whore in heat, drenching herself and the bed with her vaginal fluids. She’d asked to be fucked, and she’d had plenty of time to retract her demands. Marcus was about to find out what the insides of his baby sister felt like, a privilege many would give up their entire domains for.

He started pushing in, trying to enter her impossibly tight hole. He was about as wide as her thigh, so he wasn’t certain if it was possible at all, even though she’d taken him in her throat and stomach previously. He saw her features tighten, clenching her teeth as her invaluable purity was being shred at such a young age by her own brother’s beastly cock.

Whatever arcane effect had allowed her to gulp down his shaft was working out fine for her vagina also, as her slit parted impossibly to take in the oversized intruder. Emilia clutched onto the bed sheets, trying as best she could to contain her moans as her brother slowly penetrated her. Her kiddy fuck hole widened inhumanly as the horse cock devastated her virginity, not even her cervix being much of an obstacle, giving way and granting entrance to her infertile womb.

She lost track of space and time for a moment, as the abuse her pussy was suffering mixed in with multiple orgasms; the sensation of being filled whole. She was uncomfortably tight, even with all the lubrication, but unbelievably soft, exactly the sort of way a little girl ought to be. Marcus could make out the dilation in her stomach, and eventually he bottomed out in her uterus, finally ready to make love to his little sister.

He bent down to kiss Emilia, but she quickly broke her kiss. Amidst gasps and moans, she managed to blurt out a few words. “Why are you stopping, big brother? You’ve still got a long way to go.”

Marcus looked at her crotch to confirm what he already knew: even though he’d gone as deep in her as her genitals should allow, more than half of his pole was still outside. He looked back, sceptical at her suggestion. “I don’t think—”

Emilia locked her legs behind him and edged him forward. “As I’ve said, big brother, I want you to give me everything you’ve got. I don’t want you to stop until every inch of your manhood is inside me.” She could see Marcus was worried about hurting her. “Don’t worry. I’ve had enough of your seed inside me already to endure any intrusion. Now, brother,” she said with another push of her legs, “make me your prepubescent cocksleeve.”

There was nothing she could say that would make Marcus fully comfortable with the idea, but he’d seen a number of weird things today, so he couldn’t write off her suggestions as out of the realm of possibility. Even if he was unsure, he’d have to trust her to know her limitations, because she was his dear little sister, and his incestuous lover.

Resolved to fuck her as she’d asked, Marcus kept pushing inside her. It didn’t seem like he could make any more progress, but soon enough her cunt stretched beyond its normal limits, taking a little bit more of his length. He kept going with a slow but steady pace, careful not to stretch her so much she’d break, her young folds enveloping his dick, keeping it warm and moist.

As more and more of his meat was stuffed in her, it became harder for her to contain her moans. The distension in her belly crawled progressively upward, inflating her once flat stomach to ever more obscene levels. She put her hands on it, feeling the bulge shaped like her brother’s cock.

“Look at this, big brother,” she said. “I can feel you rearranging me. I’m being turned into a receptacle for your cock! Go on! Put it all in me and fuck me; fuck me until I’m looser than a breeding mare!”

Marcus didn’t know if he could pull through with her request, as the insertion had already reached all the way up to her chest, but he couldn’t deny his dear sister. He kept going against his better judgement, Emilia’s bulge acquiring a life of its own and, instead of tracing her chest, running parallel to it as if it was a new body part.

He buried himself so deep in her that her bulge looked more like the main volume of her body, with a little girl’s head and limbs decoratively attached to it. As shocking as it was for him, it was world-rending for Emilia, who stared at her own body in disbelief, before being assaulted by orgasm after orgasm until her eyes rolled back into her head and blanking out.

He’d finally done it; he was all the way inside Emilia. The penetration boggled the mind: two feet of horse cock were buried in a tiny 10-year-old child’s cunt, her body deformed beyond recognition, the outline of the phallus visible in her abdomen, protruding hideously up against her face. His darkest desire had become reality as he’d fucked his kid sister balls deep.

Emilia was utterly ruined, more in spirit than in body. No matter how hard she might try to regain her virginity and her tightness, she’d never be able to get these memories out of her mind. Every man after Marcus would seem insignificant, and every pleasure ephemeral, unless she was willing to actually become a breeding mare for overzealous stallions. No one would be able to reach so deep inside her and fuck her like he was.

Something deep inside Marcus was pleased; something evil and possessive. It dawned on him how foolish he’d been so far, trying to deny his feelings, trying to find a mate for his sister and pretend nothing had happened. This was the proper state of affairs: Emilia impaled on his royal dick. He _deserved_ this pleasure for his deeds and for his patience, and no one had a right to deny him his happiness. He was the people’s most adored, most prolific king, and his reward was a perfect child-wife. Preteen Emilia, the nymphette of divine beauty, the consummate female.

Emilia had pissed herself, a combination of pressure against her bladder and losing her mind. Her legs had given way, as her pain and pleasure overwhelmed her senses. Marcus put his hands under her and gave her some support, lifting her lower body to a more comfortable position.

In a few moments, she’d regained enough sanity to utter words. “I love you, big brother. Now, fuck me, with all your rage, and all your lust.”

That’s what he’d planned on doing, even if she hadn’t asked, but it was good to know she wasn’t regretting her decisions. Marcus began to pull back, the bulge subsiding with his exit; he could only comfortably pull away half his length, so that would have to suffice for fucking her.

Emilia placed her hands on the bulge, preparing for her big brother’s insertion and wanting to feel him ravaging her petite body inside and out. As she’d requested, his mind was filled with nothing but the desire to dominate her, to climax inside her, to soil her to the point of uselessness.

With one fast motion, Marcus entered her fully once again; after stretching far enough to accommodate him once, repeat motions were much easier. He did the same thing once over, experimenting with the pacing and the motions. Once he’d got the hang of it, he fucked her faster and faster, increasing to a furious pace, raping her womb.

Every time he entered her fully, she lost a small part of herself. Orgasms hit her one after another, mercilessly taxing her awareness. Her cunt let out disgusting sounds, as orgasmic fluids were pumped in and out of her, and as the vacuum of her hole changed. Her lips clung to Marcus’ shaft like they were one and the same, refusing to let him leave, gripping onto his flesh.

But most of all, her body bent and stretched obscenely to fit the intruder. Marcus couldn’t help but stare at it; the sight was electrifying. The child’s flesh deformed and distorted in the shape of his organ and the rhythm of his movements. From the underage vulva, now hardly resembling its former state of purity, all the way beyond her chest and almost to her face, her skin took his shape like heinous clay.

He pummelled the 10-year-old, his excitement building a bit more every time he was balls deep in her cunt. His full attention was devoted on the act, and all his senses were partaking. The faint taste of her virginal lubricants, the stench of their sweat and blood and orgasm, the warmth and tightness and softness of a child, the hideous distortion of her form, and the sound of their moans, gasps, and screams.

He could feel himself approaching climax. He thought of what he was doing, and what he was about to do. He was shredding Emilia’s pussy, destroying her innocence, taking advantage of her childish naïveté and her love for her big brother. He was supposed to be protecting her and caring for her, and instead he was stuffing her full of his cock. He was about to come inside her, and she hadn’t even had her first period yet. It was so _wrong_ , and that’s why he wanted to do it.

When the moment came, it was like someone opened the floodgates. He thrust into her one last time, and held her there as he pumped her full of his semen. Her already struggling pussy quickly overflowed with his fluids, and they came spilling out onto the bed. There wasn’t much left of Emilia by the time he was over; her mind was lost to the barrage of pleasure.

Marcus stayed like that with Emilia—connected to the hip for a little while—until his arousal subsided and it was time to call it a day. He carefully exited her, leaving her pussy wide and gaping. He could see the bright pink goodness all the way through to the edge of her womb, her entire genital tract one continuous orifice.

He held her close and kept her warm as the two of them had a short moment of rest.

Some time later—he couldn’t tell; it could have been minutes, it could have been hours—he was awoken by Emilia fidgeting in his arms.

“Hey, big brother.”

“Hey, Emilia.”

She leaned in on his chest, taking in his masculine smell, and enjoying his powerful embrace. “That was fun,” she said. “Let’s do that again.”

“Mhm…”

She grabbed one of his hands covering her back, and guided it downwards. Initially, he thought she was trying to cover more of herself in his warmth, but then he noticed how she’d strategically rested it on her butt.

“It was as good as I imagined. No, better!” she giggled. “Thank you, big brother. Even though you were afraid, you overcame your worries for me. I love you so much.”

“I love you too, little sister. I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

She’d said nothing to that effect, but Marcus did what her body hinted at, and took the initiative to play with her arse. With a serene smile on her face, she looked looked into his eyes, even as he explored her nether regions and inserted a probing finger in her still virgin anus.

Emilia moved in to kiss him, and then pushed him on his back. This time, she guided both his arms on her backside; by now, Marcus had got the message of what she intended to do.

“You’ve been a good boy, so I’m gonna let you have me where you’ve wanted to the most,” she said. She laced his chest, neck, and face with kisses, loving the manly features of her brother, the one true king. As he started stretching her with more and more fingers, she whispered in his ear: “Fuck your sister’s shit pipe.”

The night hadn’t yet ended.

**Author's Note:**

> This work has received an edit as of 29-04-2017. Changes include less repetition, awkward phrasing, and typos, fixes to syntax, grammar, punctuation, proportions, mathematics, and idioms, more British, and more French.


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